In the Baby Business

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Today I’ve had babies on the brain, probably because one of mine had a birthday today. It may also be because another of mine is soon to deliver a new grandbaby. Mostly, though, I think it’s just because I love babies.

Each birth is a miracle, not a single one “unwanted” or “unplanned” by God. Every child is born for lofty divine purposes, equipped with a soul that will live throughout eternity.

God wouldn’t have had to propagate the human race by bringing miniature people to earth through direct participation of a man and a woman. He could have brought smaller adult-lookalike “children” to the families of his choice just like he brought Eve to Adam, arriving with a new addition and saying, “This one’s yours.”

Instead he designed people to come from their mothers’ bodies in miniature, endowed with tiny fingers and toes, chubby arms and legs, and incredible cheeks. I can’t wait to talk to Eve one day and ask her what she thought when she was holding newborn Cain, the very first baby. She referred to him as a “man”, probably meaning “human”. Surely she was in awe of his soft skin and sweet scent, wondering if and how he would some day morph into a person like the adult Adam.

God surprised us by arranging for new human beings to arrive on the earth in a clever way wrapped in adorable bodies, but he’s been delivering surprises in many categories ever since. We can listen to “Science Friday” on public radio or watch “Nova” on TV or read any source that investigates God’s creation, both macro and micro, and see there’s no end-point to what he’s made and the ideas he’s come up with. The more new things science discovers, the more reasons we have to stand amazed.

Today as I talked with birthday “boy” Hans, I had the pleasure of participating by phone, from 4000 miles away, in the bath routine of my 3 British grandchildren. “Mee Mee’s going to come upstairs with us tonight,” he said, “so we can have bath time together!”

Their squeals of excitement came back through my speaker phone. “Shirts are coming off now,” Hans said, “and now the nappies. Oh what a big tummy you have!” (Katy’s giggles came over the air waves, too, as she joined in the fun.)

I could just “see” their pudgy toddler bodies lined up in the tub, “…like the three stooges,” Hans said. Hearing them splash, and listening to these young parents laugh with their children again and again was a gift my son gave to me on his own birthday.

Babies bring enthusiasm, cuteness and joy into our world. When God decided to get into the baby business, it was a spectacular idea. And even Jesus enjoyed handling them.

“People were bringing babies to Jesus for him to place his hands on them. ‘Whoever welcomes one of these little children in my name welcomes me.’” (Luke 18:15, Mark 9:37)

 

Deadly Words

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I wonder if I’ll ever again hear the word “September” and not link it with the word “cancer.” Today is the two year mark of that dreadful day when Nate and I sat in front of a somber medical team receiving a death sentence.

The evening before, September 21, we’d had a quiet dinner and talked about our 40th anniversary coming in 2 months. We agreed Nate’s sore back would feel much better by then and decided a 3 hour drive to Greenfield Village would be realistic and fun. We could stay at a bed and breakfast and wander through the museums without an agenda.

Before bed that night we got caught up on bills, and then Nate said, “Since my stomach’s been bothering me, maybe something else is wrong besides my back. At least with the pre-op physical, we’re catching it early.”

I wrote in my journal, “I’m really nervous about tomorrow. Strengthen us, Lord, for whatever’s coming.”

On the morning of the 22nd Nate woke with bad abdominal pain but left the house before 6:00 am as always, taking the South Shore Line to Chicago’s Loop. Fear crept into my journal words that morning: “I’m so glad all of this is under your control, Lord. I know you won’t leave us alone.”

I picked Nate up at 2:30 on the corner of Monroe and Wabash near his office, and we threaded our way across town to Rush Medical Center. When we stepped off the elevator, the stainless steel sign on the opposite wall said, “Oncology.” I looked at Nate who said, “It’s just because they have a nice conference room on this floor.” But my hands started shaking.

In the waiting room we talked, holding back the fear something very bad was about to happen. There were precious few facts: Nate needed surgery on his spine; the pre-op physical included red flags, prompting tests; a scan showed a mysterious mass; doctors stressed a meeting a.s.a.p. to discuss what they’d found; we braced for the words “bleeding ulcer.”

As we waited, Nate pulled out his Post-its and read his notes. “I hope this meeting doesn’t take long,” he said. “I’ve got a jam-packed afternoon at work.”

The news turned out to be a thousand times worse than we’d anticipated, and Nate didn’t live to see Greenfield Village on our anniversary. But God lavishly answered my prayer for strength, and as promised, never once left us alone.

My temptation now is to think, “We’re finally adjusting, and all of us are healing. Surely the road ahead will be smooth.” But of course no one has promised that, especially not God. What he has promised is continued strength to endure, along with his reassuring presence, no matter what comes.

Unlike the deadly words announcing cancer, God’s words are always full of life.

“May the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, and the love of God, and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with you all.” (2 Corinthians 13:14)

Happy with Haphazard

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Recently, I was cruising down an expressway when a pickup loaded with living room furniture passed me on the right. A second vehicle followed him, with an 18-wheeler after that.

All of a sudden the top item on the pickup’s pile let loose, a square-shaped easy chair upholstered on all sides. It fell off the truck, tumbling end-over-end behind him, heading straight for the following car. That driver stood on his brakes as my lane of traffic flew past, swerving to avoid the chair, ending up on the shoulder.

Behind him the 18-wheeler, which I saw in my rear view mirror, slammed on his air brakes producing a cloud of blue smoke as he veered into the center lane and stopped at an angle. I wondered how many vehicles had hit or bumped each other as a result, and was sharply aware of the split-second choices each driver had been forced to make.

The pickup driver continued on his way, unaware of the havoc he’d caused. If he eventually went back for his chair, the venom awaiting was surely plentiful, not to mention policemen with tickets.

As I continued driving, I thought about that freak accident and the person who caused it by not securing his load. We’ve all met people who travel through life leaving chaos in their wake, damages of all kinds. The question is, might that be me?

Am I careful to speak and do with an eye on what will be left in the rear view mirror? Have I ever gone for a laugh without considering the fall-out for every ear in the room? Have I avoided an uncomfortable social situation when I could have been a blessing? Have I backed away from a demanding conversation without considering another’s need?

If we aren’t careful, we can tumble through life knocking into people and stepping on their feelings like that bulky chair blasted helter-skelter down the highway. And what about God? Do we sometimes do that to him, too?

I wonder if leading a life marked by carelessness, tardiness and messiness might not qualify. I so admire Jesus for never evidencing any of those. He was never confused, never in a frenzy, never disorganized. He lived an intentional, controlled life, and as a result accomplished every good thing his Father gave him to do. He solved problems, touched tenderly, brought healing and spoke love, the opposite of leaving chaos in his wake.

I want to please this same Father, though I know I’ll never perform to the level of his Son. But the question “What would Jesus do?” is a good one. I know what he wouldn’t do. He wouldn’t trample over people, knocking into their feelings like a chair tumbling down the highway.

Jesus “received honor and glory from God the Father when the voice came to him from the Majestic Glory, saying, “This is my Son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased.” (2 Peter 1:17)